


Russian Roulette

by siriuslywinchester



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Gen, Guns, Russian Roulette, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuslywinchester/pseuds/siriuslywinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bernie's Teambuilding and Trust exercises go a little too far when the drivers are blindfolded and led into a room.  Unsure whether they'll all make it out alive, they play a game of Russian Roulette to secure their super licences. </p><p>Inspired by <a href="http://36.media.tumblr.com/f2c28a49a9c9a24a152e185cb6696911/tumblr_inline_nnw6opwVAP1t5b24o_500.jpg">THIS</a> image that <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/F1_rabbit/pseuds/F1_rabbit">F1_Rabbit</a> sent me to cheer me up last night.</p><p>completely fictional as far as i'm aware.<br/><b>i haven't selected any warnings, but obviously there are guns involved and it might be a little stressful for some people.</b></p>
            </blockquote>





	Russian Roulette

'Team Building and Trust Exercises'. That was what the poster had said, below 'COMPULSORY' in big red letters. 

Bernie had arranged for all the drivers, test drivers and reserve drivers to get together before the first race of the season to prove they could work together and that they trusted one another. They'd done all the usual stuff - building rafts, falling backwards into each others arms - but now they were all blindfolded and bundled into a room.

They'd been guided in one at a time and placed, arm to arm, in a circle. Marcus could hear the other drivers breathing nervously, all wondering what would happen next. Dany and Dan were joking about them all just being left there to see who could last the longest and Marcus couldn't help but think that was something Bernie would probably do as some twisted joke.

From the center of the circle a voice spoke. It wasn't one that Marcus recognised and it didn't sound friendly.

"Now you face the ultimate test," it said, a gruff mans voice that sounded like he never found joy in anything, "To keep your super licenses you must all take part in a little game."

The voice paused and you could hear a pin drop as all the drivers held the breaths, wondering what the game could possibly be.

"A game you'll all of heard of. A game to sort the boys from the men. A fame of fate. Russian Roulette."

The gasps of the drivers were cut short by the sound of a gun firing into the air. Marcus was glad to feel that he wasn't the only one that had jumped as people around him stumbled and cried out. If he hadn't been so gripped with terror, he'd have laughed at the sound of Dany asking where Dan was with a whimper, all joking gone.

The voice was silent for a few moments, while the drivers settled down and stopped shuffling. Marcus could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. He tried to convince himself that there was no way they could justify killing one of the drivers, but the gun shot sounded so real. Had he heard the cartridge drop on the floor or was that his imagination? 

"Now," the voice continued, "I'm going to place this gun back in the box so there's one in here for all you. One of my lovely assistants will guide you to the box. You pick a gun, you close the box, spin the gun and pull the trigger on whoever it points to. Point blank. If you can't do it, you lose your license."

The voice finished the explanation with an audible sneer and people around Marcus started mumbling. Marcus' ears picked out the sound of the gun being placed inside the box and the lid creaking to a close. Footsteps walked away and a door opened and closed with a bang behind them.

A squeal went up from the opposite side of the room and Marcus heard more footsteps, one heeled, one shuffling and stumbling, as the first driver was led to the box. There was a slow groaning sound as the box lid was opened and the sound of metal clinking together as the hands fumbled towards the bottom of the box, hoping to avoid the gun that was shot earlier.

The box lid dropped closed, the sound echoing off the walls that felt like they were closing down around Marcus and his colleagues. He heard the spinning of the gun and held his breath as it stopped. The spinner whimpered. He could sense that the footsteps were heading towards him. His heart was pounding.

"Please not Dan," a voice whispered and Marcus knew immediately that it was Dany that had been chosen first, "Please, please not Dan."

The footsteps drew closer and eventually stopped. Marcus heard whoever was stood to the right of him gasp. He could sense movement in the air, but with his eyes blindfolded, he had no idea what was going on. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

"No touching."

This time it was a women's voice with an accent that Marcus couldn't place. Dany must have been trying to reach out and feel who he was shooting. He heard the trigger click and knew immediately that the guy beside him can't be Dan. Dany wouldn't have pulled the trigger on Dan and Marcus was sure he'd only have had to feel the Australian's skin to know it wasn't him. 

He heard whispering and the sound of a blindfold being removed. Then there were footsteps that led away from him. The door opened and closed again and Marcus knew that Dany was through the challenge. He half hoped he was picked next, but it was whoever to his right that was picked this time - he'd have to be shot at before it was his turn.

More shuffling steps filled the room as the next driver edged towards the box. This time was quicker, the gun sounded as though it was snatched from the top and the box lid was barely closed before a flash of spinning. The footsteps led away from Marcus this time and he heard the unmistakable laugh of Nico Rosberg before the trigger was pulled with a light pop, a mere second after he stopped walking.

He left through the same door Dany had, shouting to Lewis that it's OK if he can't do it, he'll win the races for him. Nobody laughed back.

Marcus' mind was racing as more and more drivers were picked, each one saying something or making some noise that helped Marcus work out who they were as he counted the attendees off in his head.

Finally Kimi was picked, though Marcus would never have known if it wasn't for the short apology he made before pulling the trigger. He hadn't expected the Finn would have any trouble with this game, and he doubted that he'd have been too bothered if the gun was real, but Marcus was glad he was able to identify who it was before he left the room.

A shuffling from a few people to Marcus' right surprised him and his heart rate quickened again. The next driver took an unbareably long time walking to select a gun. Whoever it was, was breathing heavily as though trying to calm their nerves. The gun spun on the lid of the box and there was a long silence after it stopped.  
"What if I refuse?" an Australian accent broke the quiet, "What will happen if I rip my blindfold off and walk out?"

"You will lose your license," the woman's voice replied, "You will never race again."

Marcus was half convinced that Dan was going to walk out, but he heard the man give a long sigh and mumble something about Dany and then there were footsteps and a quick click of another trigger. He knew it wasn't Dany, Marcus told himself, wondering how differently Dan would have reacted if it could have been Dany he was shooting at.

The next person chosen seemed to walk quickly to the box, not shuffling as the others had, but walking as normal. They selected a gun and spun properly, collecting their weapon and beginning the walk which led them towards Marcus again. 

This time the gun was held to the head of the person on Marcus' left side. He could feel the arm shaking and suddenly there was a clatter of metal as the gun fell to the ground and sent shocks of panic up Marcus' leg.

"Pick it up," the woman's voice said and Marcus felt someone tall bend down and grope around.

The driver stood back up, and from the height and the sobs that were now coming from his throat he could tell it was Nico Hulkenberg. The shaking started again, Nico's elbow hitting Marcus as he rose the gun to the head of whoever was stood beside him.

It seemed like an eternity before the trigger was pulled, and so close to Marcus' ear that at first he thought it was the real gun. The sobs came louder then, until Marcus was suddenly knocked from his feet as Nico collapsed to the floor, scratching at concrete with his nails as he tried to crawl away.

The door that people had been leaving through opened and hurried footstep rushed toward Marcus. Someone grabbed him under the armpit and hauled him back to his feet and he heard whispered voices checking that Nico was OK. 

Eventually Marcus sensed them pulling Nico to his feet and this time he did shuffle as walked out of the room. The sobbing had silenced, but Marcus knew that Nico wouldn't forget this easily. Only the most foolish and cocksure of the drivers would forget this day.

More of the drivers were selected and taken to their victims. As more and more people pulled the trigger, each new pick became more and more panicked. Breathing heavily, crying, sobbing, wailing, moaning and apologising over and over. 

But everyone pulled the trigger, leaving one less fake gun in the box.

By his count, Marcus knew there were just three people left, including himself. He knew at any moment it would be his turn to pick up a gun, but for now he heard another person shuffling forward and opening the box.

There was no rummaging noise now, just the sound of metal scraping against wood as a gun was pulled out of the box.

"What happens if I pull the trigger on my own head?" 

The voice belonged to Sebastian Vettel. He sounded oddly calm despite what he had just said. Marcus wondered why he hadn't thought of that option before. He would rather kill himself than kill another person, and from how few people were left, it was almost a certainty that he'd kill or be killed.

"That would be a forfeit," the woman's voice said, "If you don't lose your life, you lose your license."

There was a long pause. Marcus could tell that Sebastian was weighing up his options. He had a good car now at Ferrari, he could win a title again if he tried hard enough. On the other hand he'd won four already and maybe he was thinking he'd rather go out on the high of that, than the low of not winning again.

After the silence of Sebastian's thoughts, the gun being placed on the lid of the box and beginning to spin made Marcus jump. It seemed to spin forever and Marcus could feel sweat dripping down his forehead and soaking into the blindfold.

It finally stopped and Sebastian's footsteps were led away from him. Marcus breathed a sigh of relief before realising that unless this was the bullet, it really was fifty-fifty whether he'd make it out of this room alive. Could he even bring himself to leave the room if he shot the other driver?

There was a click of a trigger that distracted Marcus from his thoughts, and hurried footsteps that left the room.

Marcus knew who stood opposite him. 

Now it was just Jolyon and himself.

The woman's footsteps moved again, but this time she walked out of the door, not selecting a driver to pick a gun. For an instant Marcus wondered if he'd miscounted and won without realising, but then the man's growling voice returned.

"And so only two remain," he said, opening the box, "Walk to my voice and pick a gun each."

Marcus gulped, shuffling forward with his hands held out before him in the direction of the voice. It seemed like he was walking for miles before his toe stubbed on the box and a firm hand wrapped around his wrist and guided his hand into the box. 

He wrapped his fingers around a gun and stood up straight, trying to stop himself from shaking, trying to lock his knees so he didn't buckle over and fall to the floor.

"I want you to hold the guns against each others heads and the first to shoot wins," the voice said, "Which gun remains, assuming it's not in a dead mans hand, is to be pointed at the head of its holder."

Marcus gulped as the hand that gripped his wrist guided the gun towards his opponents head and he felt a gun press against his temple.

"Jolyon?" Marcus whimpered, almost whispering the name and hoping that his old team mate heard him, "Is that you?" 

He felt the gun against his head drop a little. The confident grip that had been holding it loosening and beginning to shake.

"Marcus?" Jolyon whispered, his voice cracking and his breath suddenly quickening.

"I don't know if I can do this," Marcus said, feeling tears beginning to sting in his eyes under the blindfold, "I don't think I can kill for my seat."

Jolyon's other hand suddenly grabbed at Marcus' and gripped onto it tightly. His palm was sweaty but he rubbed a reassuring finger along the edge of Marcus' hand as he spoke.

"We'll do it together," he said, "Just promise me if I die you'll win the fucking championship at some point, yea?"

Marcus laughed nervously, remembering how they'd chatted as youngesters about racing against one another for first place in the championship when they were older. It had been both of their dreams since they were children and now it looked so much like it wouldn't happen for one of them.

"After three," Jolyon said, letting go of Marcus' wrist, "Okay?"

Marcus nodded, gulping back tears before he realised that Jolyon couldn't see him.

"After three," he whispered, hoarsely.

"One."

Marcus adjusted his grip on the gun in his hand, pressing his head nearer to the gun that was aimed at him in a hope it would be over quicker that way.

"Two."

Sweat poured from his brow, his grip on the gun showing that he was not as confident as he was trying to persuade himself.

"Three."

He squeezed with his finger, hearing a deafening click in his ear as Jolyon's trigger was pulled.

He stood still for what seemed like days, his eyes squeezed shut under the blindfold, waiting for the pain or for a limp body to fall against him.

Time stood still.

Marcus didn't even dare to breath. He felt numb. Deaf and blind. He couldn't speak, though he tried to shout. He wanted to know what happened. Was Jolyon OK?

Suddenly the blindfold was ripped from his face, the sudden light blinding him and making his head hurt. Someone was hugging him, jumping into his arms and squeezing him as tightly as he'd ever been held.

He fell to the floor, the weight of whatever was clinging to him pinned down on top of him. He felt wetness on his face and managed to convince himself that it was blood. Someone was dying.

"You did it," he heard the voice but it seemed so far away, "You did it Marcus."

There was a sudden release and the light seemed stronger as his eyes adjusted to the glare. Arms gripped his shoulders and shook him, trying to wake him and get a response from him.

"You did it, Marcus," the voice said again, "We did it. We're OK."

He reached up and rubbed his eyes and his face, his surroundings coming into focus. He looked down at his hands and saw that the wetness he had felt was tears he didn't realise he'd been crying.

Looking up again, Jolyon sat in front of him, grinning from ear to ear, and an old man stood behind him with two bottles of water in his hands.

"Drink this," he said in the gravelly voice of the man who had instructed them a few minutes before, "You'll feel better."

Marcus took the water in shaking hands, tearing the top off and spilling half of the bottle down his top as he tried to hold it to his lips. Beside him, Jolyon drank greedily before placing the bottle on the ground and grabbing Marcus in another hug as he laughed with happiness.

"What happened?" Marcus asked, not sure what answer he was really looking for, "Why is everybody alive?"

"You didn't really think I'd kill any of you, did you?" 

The voice came from behind where Marcus was sitting and he turned to see Bernie walking towards them.

"It was just a bit fun, really."

Marcus looked back at Jolyon. The Brit wore a mirrored expression of Marcus' uncertainty. Bernie bent down beside them and patted them both on the shoulder, laughing at their expressions which probably told him all he needed about how much they trusted him.

"Honestly boys," he laughed, "I don't know why you all think I'm the devil. I think you worked well as a team, it's a shame you don't trust me though."

Marcus forced himself to smile, as though he'd seen the funny side of it all, and glanced after Bernie as he walked towards the door that he assumed the other drivers had walked through.

Jolyon followed his gazed before climbing to his feet, a little more sure of himself than Marcus felt. He held out a hand and pulled Marcus to his feet and wrapped an arm around him to help him out of the room.

The door led outside, to a beautifully warm summers day. Marcus sniffed in the fresh air, clearing his lungs and slowing his pounding heart as he clung to Jolyon for support. The other drivers had all disappeared and Bernie was waddling down the pathway that led back towards the car park. Nobody had wanted to stick around after they'd taken their shot.

Marcus looked around him. The area ahead of them filled with grass and flowers and nature. He looked up and saw the fluffy clouds dancing through the sky on a gentle wind. He heard the birds in the trees tweeting to one another and understood their cheerful song of joy. He felt the sun heating the skin on his bare arms and the light breeze drying the sweat on his forehead.

And for the first time in his life, he realised how thankful he was to be alive.

**Author's Note:**

> hopefully this isn't completely horrendous. i hope i managed to get the feelings of the drivers written well. i wanted to show how different people maybe reacted to that situation whilst also keeping it short, which is why I only wrote a few of the drivers full stories.


End file.
